


Eye of the Wind

by dotfic



Category: The Unusuals
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-18
Updated: 2012-10-18
Packaged: 2017-11-16 13:42:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/540066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dotfic/pseuds/dotfic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Walsh thinks that a ride on the Staten Island Ferry would do Shraeger some good. Shraeger isn't so sure.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eye of the Wind

**Author's Note:**

  * For [innie_darling (innie)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/innie/gifts).



> Written for innie_darling's birthday, beta by musesfool. Inspired by 1.07, "The Circle Line."

It was just past 10 a.m. on a Sunday as Casey slouched in one of the plastic chairs of the South Ferry terminal, shoving her hands deep into the pockets of her jacket.

"I'm not sure this is such a good idea." She wondered if a third cup of coffee was a good idea, then decided it didn't matter, she should have one. Maybe even a cappuccino--it seemed like a cappuccino situation, with chocolate shavings.

Walsh grinned at her in an annoyingly calm way. "C'mon, it'll be fun. It's a boat ride!"

"I hate boats, Walsh."

"Yes, I know. That's why we're here."

Casey sighed, staring up at the sunlight shining through the glass panels of the terminal. Definitely a cappuccino, and maybe some biscotti. That was one of her better memories of high school, a group of kids gathered around a table someplace like Café Mozart, talking for hours, cramming themselves full of sugar, caffeine, whipped cream, and pastry.

"Sooner or later we'll be trying to catch a murderer and the case will require us to go on a boat," Walsh said. "I figured, maybe we can get you used to boats ahead of time so you won't have a nautically-induced meltdown while we're on the clock." 

Stretching his arm across the back of the empty seat beside him, Walsh calmly tapped his fingers against the plastic.

"I won't have a meltdown," Casey said, eyeing the vendors in the terminal and trying to decide which one to buy her cappuccino from. "This is a waste of time."

"So, no big deal, it's a Sunday, you're taking a boat ride. There's no downside, here, Shraeger." Walsh said it so slow and easy, Casey almost felt comforted. There was something comforting about Walsh.

"Except _boat_ ," Casey said, standing up. "I'm getting a cappuccino and biscotti. Do you want anything?"

"Nah, I'm good." 

She walked across the terminal, which had only a small crowd of waiting passengers, none of them in business wear because it was the weekend. Casey liked being out in the city when she wasn't on duty, just another face in the flow of it all, the day to day life, stuff that she'd been held remote from growing up, stuff she'd been taught had no connection to who she was. 

"Okay," she said, sitting back down next to Walsh. "I got you a biscotti even though you said you didn't want one. Here." 

Walsh took it, the paper wrapped around it rustling. He examined it as if it were a piece of evidence, turning it over in his fingers, then sniffed it. "Almond."

"I've got two chocolate if you'd rather…"

"Almond's good." He shrugged.

It was eight minutes to the next ferry. Casey poured sugar into her cappuccino and willed her stomach to stop jumping. Because yeah, the caffeine was such a good idea, this would be very calming.

She stuck the little wooden swizzle stick into the foam, watching the sugar sink and vanish. 

A few minutes later they were in the line to board, Hudson River a wash of blue-gray beyond the windows. A gull flew low beyond the glass walls of the terminal. "This isn't such a good idea," Casey said, clutching the warm paper cup holding her cappuccino. The biscotti she'd just consumed sat heavy in her stomach, and she felt a little queasy.

The line moved forward, but Walsh put a hand on her arm, stopping her, letting people move ahead of them. "Hey, if you'd really rather not--"

Damn it, he looked so incredibly patient and concerned. Plus, he had a point. If she didn't prepare herself for being on a boat, at some point, it could affect her work.

"No, let's…it's ok, let's do this." She held up her hand and walked forward.

"The ferries are pretty big you know," Walsh said, catching up with her. "Big, wide, you barely feel any motion at all."

She side-eyed him. "Liar."

"No, really, unless you're out in bad weather--which we are not going to be. They're very stable boats, and the view is amazing."

They stepped onto the ferry, which felt like it was rocking. Casey gripped the backs of the rows of seats as she made her way to a seat as close to the center of the room as possible, in sight of the concession stand. She sat down and folded her arms as Walsh settled next to her.

Walsh picked up a newspaper someone had discarded on the seat, and started skimming the headlines. Then he paused to turn and stare out the windows on one side, then the other--he looked fleetingly like a little kid. "Man, I love the Hudson," he said. "So…is it water that disturbs you, or is it just boats?"

"Boats. Specifically, boats on water."

"Just checking." He nodded, and went back to looking at the newspaper while Casey cautiously leaned over to get a glimpse out the window, getting a pretty view of the water, shining in the sunlight, and the Manhattan skyline. 

So maybe this wouldn't be so bad after all.

The boat shuddered and the engines revved. Casey twined her fingers tightly together in her lap.

As the ferry pulled away from its mooring, skyline sliding gracefully past the windows, Walsh reached down and put his hand, palm warm, over both of hers. He squeezed once and let go.

After a few minutes, Walsh stood up and stretched. "I'm hungry," he said. "You want a hot dog?"

Casey put her hand on her stomach. "No, thank you." She swallowed.

"Easy, Shraeger. Told you, big, wide boat, very sturdy." He touched her shoulder lightly. "I'll be right back." Walsh headed off for the concession stand.

A family sat opposite Casey's row, parents with a baby and a toddler. Probably visiting relatives on the island. On the other side, a college-age kid who needed a shave slouched in his seat, iPod headphones in his ears, nodding along quietly to whatever music he was listening to while he stared out the window. An old man in a suit and a fedora sat in the corner, napping.

Walsh returned, eating his hot dog in four big bites, licking mustard off his fingers. "We should try going outside."

"Outside?" Casey said, her voice rising to an embarrassing pitch at the end of the word. 

"On the deck. The bow's the best place, great view. There's a railing and everything, I swear."

"I am on a boat. That's plenty." Casey patted the seat beside her. "Nice, solid seats. Kudos to the MTA on the seats."

"Okay." He sat down and stuck his shoe up on the seat, fixing the laces on his sneaker.

She thought of Banks, living in a bullet-proof vest.

"Maybe five minutes outside," Casey said.

"Great view, I'm telling ya." Walsh got to his feet and waited for her to follow.

The sun reflected off the water was almost blinding. Casey clung to the walls as she edged out onto the bow deck, and then wrapped the fingers of her left hand around the cold metal of the railing.

She felt Walsh's hand at the base of her back. "Just hold the railing," he told her, "and look at the pretty view."

"It's a very nice view." 

Which it was, but being surrounded by this much water, way, way out in the middle of New York Harbor with Staten Island in the distance, was making her stomach lurch again. The wind rushed in her ears. Two elderly ladies with cameras also stood at the railing, neither holding on, looking as comfortable as if they were on solid land.

"A good cop isn't someone who's never scared," Walsh said, leaning his elbows on the railing and squinting against the sunlight. "It's someone who can be afraid, but keep a clear head and use their instincts."

They spent the rest of the trip leaning against the rail, not speaking, just the water and wind and the opposite shore growing closer. 

By the time the ferry docked, Casey's stomach had settled.

They wandered around the terminal at St. George's, and watched the fish in the big tank, until it was time for the next ferry.

"Ready?" Walsh said, when it was time to board.

Casey curled her fingers into a fist and released. Her hands were steady. "Yeah. Let's go."

~end


End file.
